


Where The Lovelight Gleams

by youaresunlight



Series: Coming Home 'Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bottom Castiel, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Husbands, Kid Fic, Lawyer Castiel, M/M, Teacher Dean, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 14:26:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2696303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youaresunlight/pseuds/youaresunlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a year since they first met, and Dean is ready to spend the rest of his life with Cas. He has the ring and a plan, and all Cas has to do is say 'yes' to make him the happiest man alive. This is the story of the proposal and the wedding, and the ten years that follow in their marriage with two terrific kids.</p><p>Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2226672">Your Eyes Look Like Coming Home</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where The Lovelight Gleams

**Author's Note:**

> **It's here!** I am so very excited to finally post this fic! The 'verse holds a really special place in my heart now, and I hope you enjoy the story as much I loved writing it. Special thanks my best friend R who listened to my brainstorms from the start, and for being the last person to read through it before the posting.
> 
> The title is a lyric from the song "I'll Be Home For Christmas" by Josh Groban.
> 
>  **One thing to keep in mind while reading:** Rose calls Dean "Dad" and Cas "Daddy"; Max calls Dean "Papa" and Cas "Dad." I tried to keep it as clear as possible throughout. :)

**September: Cas**

“Can we skate now?”

Cas smiles at the question while his fingers lace up Rose’s left skate, and when her other foot starts to tap restlessly against the bench, he calms that down too with a gentle press of his hand. “Just a few more minutes, sweetie.”

“Okay,” Rose sighs, but there’s a thoughtful little moue dancing across her lips, and she turns her head to gaze longingly at the ice as though she’d been told to wait hours rather than minutes, all very dramatic according to her infallible seven-year-old logic.

Cas thinks she’s sort of adorable like this, and  _yes_ , he’s her dad and therefore inherently obligated to believe that, or something, but he finishes tying the skates with a grin and drops kisses on both of her knees just because he can.

“All set, princess?” Dean asks from somewhere behind Cas’ shoulder. Cas looks up from where he’s crouched near the carpeted floor, and suddenly it’s him smiling at Dean, Dean smiling at Rose, and Max wondering if they can get salted pretzels, which- Which actually makes it all pretty damn perfect.

“I’ll take Max to the concession stand,” Dean says, pulling Cas up onto his feet. “I think Rose is gonna combust if she doesn’t skate in the next five seconds so we’ll meet you on the ice, okay?” He waits for Cas to nod then leans forward to kiss him, quick and sweet.

From the conspiring look exchanged between Dean and Max as they head off, Cas just knows that they won’t settle for anything less than the biggest pretzel available at Castle Ice. He shake his head at the thought, all the while letting Rose tug him to the center of the ice. He spends the next ten minutes or so watching her glide and spin, laughing along with her and skating a little himself.

He’s so preoccupied by Rose doing windmill swishes with her arms that he barely notices the light pull on his jacket sleeve. When he looks down, Cas recognizes one of the twins’ former classmates from last year.

“Hi, Sara,” he smiles, albeit a bit confused. If it weren’t for her cheerful expression and shy smile, Cas would worry that she was lost, separated from her parents in the crowd.

“Hi, Mr. Novak,” she says before pulling something out of her pocket. She hands it to him gleefully and skates away without further explanation. It’s a piece of blue card stock, a cut-out in the shape of a W. Cas glances at Rose in question, but her eyes are as wide as his and far from telling.

The bafflement grows when another kid (Jake, he thinks) comes up to pass him a green I. More children follow suit, each approaching Cas with a letter, and it occurs to him soon enough that all of them were in Rose’s and Max’s class last year - with Dean.

W, I, L, L, Y, O, U, M, A, R...

“Oh,” he breathes.

“Daddy?”

Rose breaks into a sneaky smile when Cas meets her eyes. She’s got one hand in her pocket, the lump of her fist visible through the padding, and there’s an eleventh letter when the hand pulls out, a pink R. Cas’ pulse starts to race.

“Dad!” Max calls from behind them. Cas spins around to find his son clutching a Y, and he sees that Dean is holding something too though he can’t read what it says from this far away. He waits for Dean to come closer, biting his lip, tamping down on his nerves, and the air rushes out of his lungs when Dean raises the paper, thick and pastel blue with the word ME? written across it in big, bold letters.

Cas knows that he’s gaping but Dean just smiles, soft and beautiful, and his next words, such perfect, wonderful words, blissfully confirm that Cas isn’t dreaming.

“Will you marry me, Castiel Novak?” he murmurs. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me.”

He looks nervous, and hopeful, and Cas leans in to kiss him because-

“Dean, of course I will,” he whispers happily. “ _Yes_.”

 

**First December: Sam**

The ceremony is held at the science museum, where everything, Dean and Cas, officially began. They’re on the topmost floor and it’s beautiful, with windowed walls looking out onto the Charles, and the snow-covered backdrop proves ideal for an elegant winter wedding, cream and white and navy and glowing.

Sam holds Jess’ hand as Rose and Max come down the aisle, the former scattering flower petals ahead of her, the latter focused on not dropping the rings. Rose is wearing a hair wreath of white peonies while Max is in a miniature version of his dads’ tux, and he resembles Cas so much that Sam chuckles despite himself, eyes full of nothing but fondness for his adorable nephew.

“Sam,” Jess says beside him, quiet and reverent, hand clutching his more tightly if that were possible. He follows her eye line to where Dean and Cas have taken their place, and he gasps at the sight of them, how perfect they look together.

Everyone stands as Dean reaches for Cas’ hand, fingers threading naturally, their shared gaze warm with adoration for each other. Dean kisses Cas’ cheek, making the whole room sigh in sync, and their radiant smiles are mirrored by all in attendance when they finally begin to walk, side by side.

Sam was sure that he’d be well-prepared, to not be overcome with emotions, or let himself cry. He breathes deep as Dean and Cas make it to where he awaits with Jess, Anna, Gabe, Chuck, and the twins, and swallows hard at Dean pausing to clap him on the shoulder, something proud and unspoken passing between them, understood. He keeps it under control otherwise, getting by with just a tight throat and prickling eyes. He’s almost convinced that he’ll survive without becoming a total embarrassment, and he manages valiantly for the most part, until-

Until they start reading the vows.

Sam knows how nervous Dean had been while writing his, panicked that he could never express everything he wanted in words. He’d consulted Jess and John Keats and a dozen anthologies of love letters but now, standing in front of Cas, Dean’s vow comes from his heart and his heart alone.

“... I was broken before I met you, Cas, and you pieced me back together again. And I’ll devote myself to you, and Rose, Max, our family, to stay worthy of the love you’ve given me. I love you so much.”

Dean lowers the paper to his side when he’s done, and although Sam can’t see his brother’s face he does see Cas, who’s looking at Dean like he’s the only person in the entire world.

“You helped me believe in love again,” he says, eyes wet and bright. “Everything in the past- All of it happened in order to bring us here, and… Dean, you’re the one. My love and my life, today and always. Thank you for letting me find you.”

Sam turns away for a moment because, good god, there’s absolutely nothing to keep his tears back anymore. He blinks, then sighs, his eyes meeting Anna’s over the aisle, and they trade these watery smiles like, ‘Those idiots are completely ruining my cool sibling cred right now.’

Thankfully, they’re granted a break from the waterworks when Max comes forward with the rings, chest puffed out and grinning, raising the pillow up as high as he can. Dean and Cas crouch down anyway, exchanging the bands at their son’s eye level, and Max hugs them both before returning to his spot, unaware that he made at least five more people cry.

The last item on the program, of course, is the kiss, which has Dean swooping in to wrap an arm around Cas’ waist, capturing his lips with this content, soppy smile. They eventually pull apart to a wave of catcalls instigated by Gabe, blushing and laughing, smiling at each other, totally in love.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

They head to the Blue Wing for the reception, where the space has been transformed with flowers and lights and tasteful embellishments. The guests mingle in the exhibits until Dean and Cas join them amid a chorus of cheers and whistles.

The dinner is fantastic, which Sam knew already since he and Jess accompanied them to the tasting. Still, it’s great to see everyone enjoying themselves, especially his brother and Cas, who have their heads bent in conversation, occasionally feeding each other forkfuls of dinner, smiling so wide that Sam forgives them for being gross.

Anna taps on her glass when it comes time for speeches, and the chatter fades away as Gabriel stands up at their table. He gives Cas a subtle wink and proceeds to wow with an unexpectedly serious speech, everything about it so heartfelt and beautiful that there’s no dry eye in the room by the time he’s done.

“And now a few words from Sam, Dean’s younger brother.”

Sam clears his throat and stands up, suddenly nervous.

“Dean is four years older than me,” he starts, “so I wasn’t there for many of his firsts the same way he was for mine. I didn’t see his first steps though he watched mine. And, uh, according to our home video he had a blast just tipping me over again and again. I didn’t hear his first word though mine was ‘Dean,’ and I didn’t see his first bike ride even though he was one hell of a drill sergeant when he taught me how to pedal properly. And as we grew older, Dean was always there, at every step. He showed me how to stand up to bullies at school, and gave me advice for my first date with Jess, my now wife. Terrible advice, but still, it meant a lot to me. He made himself my protector though he didn’t have to, and I used to really regret not having been there for him equally.

“But, you know, what makes me feel better about all this, is that I was there to see Dean fall in love for the first time. And, I mean,  _really_ fall in love, like head over heels, the stuff romantic comedies are made of. I couldn’t be happier for him because he’s truly found his other half, and I know that they’re going to build an amazing life together, with their kids and with each other.

“That being said, Cas, there are absolutely  _no_ take-backs, alright? You’re stuck with Dean so please don’t return him, and if he does something stupid, just tell me and I’ll yell at him for you. No refunds or exchanges though. Promise? Pinky swear?” He waits for Cas to stop laughing and nod, ignoring his brother’s exasperated pout.

“Okay, good. Now that that’s settled, everyone please raise your glass to the grooms - my ridiculous brother Dean, whom I love very much, and my incredible new brother Cas, who is  _way_ out of Dean’s league. To Dean and Cas.”

Sam sets his glass down just as Dean pulls him into a crushing embrace, muttering “Bitch, you stole my line” that sounds more like a chuckle than anything else. He laughs and hugs back, tells Dean that he had to repay him for the same jibe at his and Jess’ wedding. They’re grinning when they release one another and Sam goes to hug Cas, replying to his thanks with a soft “Love ya, Cas.”

“Do you know what song they chose?” Jess asks when the ceiling lights dim for the first dance.

“No clue, actually. Dean did say it’ll probably make you cry.”

“Oh please, like I haven’t been weeping all afternoon.”

“Yeah, geez, I’m drowning over there,” he teases, earning a playful shove in return, and they smile before turning their attention back to Dean and Cas, who are now standing in each other’s arms.

_At last, my love has come along_  
_My lonely days are over_  
_And life is like a song  
_ _At last_

Dean draws Cas close by his waist, hand resting protectively at the dip of his back. Cas’ hand curls around Dean’s nape and their other hands are clasped as they sway slowly to the music, its lyrics so resonant, befitting their story perfectly. They look happier now than Sam has ever seen them, which is saying a lot given that Dean’s always been moonstruck with Cas, but this moment seems particularly magical and perhaps he sighs a little as he watches, his elation reflected in his parents’ expressions as well as those of Cas’ mother and father.

_I found a dream that I could speak to_  
_A dream that I can call my own_  
_I found a thrill to rest my cheek to  
_ _A thrill that I have never known_

Dean pulls back slightly so he can meet Cas’ eyes, mouthing the words and making his husband laugh. Cas shakes his head fondly and buries his face in Dean’s neck, and Dean continues to gaze at Cas though Cas can’t see him.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Jess murmurs to Anna.

_For you are mine, at last_

“They are,” Anna agrees, wiping at the moisture on her cheek. Chuck notices and drapes a comforting arm around her. “I can’t believe they picked  _this_ song, god, why did I even bother with mascara.”

Her sentiment is clearly shared by many, based on the number of people dabbing at their eyes. Dean kisses Cas once more as the notes gradually fade, and Sam thinks this is probably the most blissfully tearful wedding he has ever attended.

 

**Second December: Dean**

Rose and Max are sitting on the floor when Dean joins them in the living room, his camcorder turned on and blinking bright red. They’re rummaging through the ornaments so he asks if they’re ready to decorate, at which Max nods and starts making goofy faces at the camera while Rose just sighs like she’s so embarrassed by her brother. “We need to find the polar bears,” she says. 

“The polar bears?”

“They always go on the tree first. Right, Daddy?”

Cas, who’s busily dusting off an angel tree topper, nods back at her. “Yes, Rose.”

Rose appears satisfied and resumes her search through the growing pile of green and red, and meanwhile Dean spins around in his spot, turning the camera toward his husband surreptitiously. “And here we have an angel holding an angel.”

Cas glances up, only just noticing the camera and Dean’s smile. He huffs out a laugh and raises his palm to cover the lens, eyes demure and so gorgeous that Dean really wants to beat him in this little game of hide and seek.

“Dad, can you come untangle these?”

“Cas, our son’s asking for you.”

Cas rolls his eyes, warily letting go to attend to Max and some tangled ornaments, and there’s nothing he can do to stop Dean from filming it all. He does try to block the camera again a moment later, laughing and moving from side to side to avoid Dean’s puppy dog eyes. “Dean,” he laughs when Dean attempts to zoom in on his face; he’s breathless by the time Dean catches his wrists, gentle but playful.

“C’mon, babe, say something for the camera,” Dean whines. “This is gonna be passed onto future generations, you know. Tell ‘em one thing about grandpa Cas. Do it for the progeny.”

Cas sighs indulgently, which basically means that he’s gonna relent, so Dean focuses the viewfinder and wonders how the sight of Cas can make his breath catch even through a lens. Cas peers into the camera for a minute, fidgeting with the frayed hem of his sweater, and when he speaks, the words are quiet, though still audible over the carols in the background.

“I love you, Dean Winchester.”

Dean stills, eyes flitting between Cas and the smaller Cas on the screen.

“For the  _progeny_ ,” he chides, though his hands are already pulling Cas closer. He rotates the camera on them and softly presses their lips together, whispering “I love you, love you so much” against the indent of Cas’ lush mouth like a prayer. “Kids,” he hums happily, pulling back to look into the lens. “Your grandpa Dean is crazy about grandpa Cas, ‘cause grandpa Cas is smoking hot.”

“Dad, gross!” Rose yells from near the tree, having found her collection of vintage sledding polar bears. Dean shifts right on cue to catch the twins’ identical scrunched up noses, both of them letting out martyred sighs and looking like they’ve never been more forbearing in their eight years of existence.

 

**Third December: Anna**

Anna’s heels are loud against the linoleum, her breaths coming fast as she rushes down the hospital corridor. Her sentences are scrambled when she leaves the message on her husband’s voicemail, and she tries to pay careful attention to the room numbers passing her by in the E.R. When she finds the right door, she takes a deep breath before heading inside, and her shoulders sag in relief at the sight of Gabe talking to Dean like nothing were out of the ordinary.

“Oh, thank god,” she sighs, approaching her brother and patting Dean’s arm along the way. She can’t help but notice that her brother-in-law looks more pale than the patient.

“Worried ‘bout me?” Gabe teases, completely inappropriate as per usual. Anna frowns and lays a smack on his good arm, the one that’s not in a sling.

“Ow!” Gabe yelps. “Hey, I’m a  _patient_!”

She ignores him and turns to Dean. “Are Rose and Max…”

“They’re with my friend, Charlie,” he explains. “Did you call Cas and Chuck?”

“Yeah, but they’re in a meeting. I could only leave them messages.”

“Aw, you shouldn’t scare them like that,” Gabe clicks his tongue. “You know I hate it when Cas cries.”

“Castiel isn’t going to cry, Gabe.”

“Sure about that? Remember that time when he was seven?”

“I do,” Anna huffs. “He was also seven.”

Gabe shrugs at her, managing the motion with one shoulder, while Dean studies them curiously before finally asking, “Why did he cry?”

“Oh,” Anna smiles ruefully. “Well, once, when we were kids, Cas and Gabe went out for a bike ride around the neighborhood and… Where we used to live, um, there was this hill, probably too steep for little kids. So, naturally, Gabe wanted to ride his bike down from the top.”

“Naturally,” Dean agrees. Gabriel rolls his eyes.

“There was no way Cas could’ve stopped him, and Gabe ended up falling off his bike. They made it home somehow but Cas was- He cried so much and kept on apologizing that it was his fault. God, and when he saw Gabe in bandages at the hospital… Cuts always look worse than they actually are and I think Cas was convinced that we were going to lose Gabe.”

“That’s why I have to like, play tennis in secret,” Gabe chimes in. “He can never hear about any injuries. I’m sure he thinks I’m up to some really sketchy shit.”

“Aren’t you?” Dean laughs. He grins harder when Gabe gives him the finger.

“So Anna probably shouldn’t have called him,” Gabe sighs, and as if on cue the door flings open and Cas rushes in, Chuck close on his heels. The room isn’t that big yet it takes a second for Cas to hone in on Gabriel, and his eyes are sort of wild, a sharper shade of blue. “Gabe? Oh my god, are you...”

“I’m fine, it’s just a broken arm.”

Cas appears skeptical as he walks over to the bed, like he can’t believe their brother despite the sling and the voice and the mischief back in his eyes. He comes to a halt less than a foot away from Gabe, and Anna sees Dean reach out from behind to take Cas’ hand.

“What happened?” Cas asks, his tone shaky and unnervingly quiet. Anna knows how uneasy Gabe gets whenever Cas speaks that way, and watches Gabe shift and clear his throat under the weight of their brother’s concern.

“Just skidded on the ice, scraped along the shoulder fence.”

“And you had your snow tires on?”

“Cas, c’mon, this is  _Boston_. People put on snow tires in April, myself included. I’m not reckless, you know.”

“My memory claims otherwise.”

“Yeah, well, just ask Dean. He was the first one here and we’ve been chatting for a good half-hour. I’m  _fine_. Right, Dean-o?” He throws Dean a look, silently asking for back-up, and Dean nods reassuringly, tightening his hold on Cas’ hand.

“It’s true. The doctor said he’ll be fine. He didn’t hit his head or suffer any internal injuries.”

“See, bro?”

Cas glances between Dean and Gabriel, doesn’t relax until Dean nods again and says, “Everything’s okay.” He turns to Gabe anyway, but asks about his car instead, whether they need to arrange a rental for him and when he should go pick up the vehicle from the shop.

They’re more or less shooed out of the room once the doctor returns for a second check-up, and Anna finds a group of four chairs in the waiting area while Chuck goes to find coffee and Dean and Cas talk to a nurse about discharge. Cas rejoins her first, slumping into a chair across from hers, and Anna watches worriedly as his head drops heavily onto open palms.

“Cas, hey…”

She leans forward immediately when she notices the trembling shoulders, about to get up and take care of her baby brother. But then Dean enters her periphery, quickly crossing the floor to sit beside Cas, and as soon as he wraps an arm around Cas’ shoulders, her brother breaks down.

Dean pulls him close and hooks his chin over Cas’ head, murmuring softly. “Hey, it’s okay. He’s okay…”

Cas is sobbing, pressing his face into the space between Dean’s neck and shoulder. The sight nearly breaks Anna’s heart and she looks away.

“Shh, it’s alright, Cas,” she hears Dean whisper. “I’m here, okay, babe? I’m here. I’m here…”

She spots Chuck coming back with four coffees in a traveler, and rises up from her chair to walk over and meet him halfway. He kisses her cheek and nods toward Dean, who’s still holding Cas in his arms.

“How’s Cas doing?” he asks. “He was so upset earlier. I basically had to hide his keys so he wouldn’t drive.”

Anna smiles and leans into her husband’s warmth, remembering how Dean had rushed to Cas’ side.

“He’s going to be fine,” she tells Chuck. “Dean’s with him now.”

 

**Fourth December: Dean**

Dean can’t even remember why they fought.

It was just one of those days, off kilter from the second their coffee machine decided to break and spew out something close-to-water instead, messing with everyone’s mood. Meanwhile, upstairs, the kids fought over the bathroom spectacularly, and Max spent fifteen minutes sulking into his breakfast until he finally ate three spoonfuls of cereal, barely a moment before they had to leave for work and school. Then, on top of everything else, Cas couldn’t leave the office till eight o’clock, having to deal with end-of-the-year projects that’ve kept him, Chuck, and Zachariah all tied up at work as of late. By night, the mood was tense like a taut string ready to snap, and Dean  _did_ snap at Cas, for something stupid and trivial and, god, he needs to fix this now.

Because the bottom line is, fighting with Cas is the absolute worst.

He’s gone downstairs, leaving Dean alone in their master bedroom, and Dean can’t stand how large and empty it feels without his husband there. It’s also very cold, which makes no sense because their heating is working perfectly, but Dean finds a sweatshirt anyway and troops to the first floor, heading straight to the study, pausing at the door. He raises a hand and knocks, two times. “… Cas?”

There’s no answer and he sighs, calls again. “Cas… I’m- I’m sorry.”

He lingers for another moment then moves to sit on the floor with his back against the wall. He draws a knee to his chest and lets the other stretch out on the hardwood, mulling over his mistake until he couldn’t feel more foolish if he tried.

It’s hard to tell how long he stays like that, turning occasionally to check whether the thin beam of light beneath the door is still there. The light never turns off, as far as he can see, but Cas doesn’t come to the door either, and eventually Dean stands up, joints stiff and strained, slowly making his way back up the stairs.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

He’s reminded the following morning that there is, in fact, something worse than fighting with Cas, and that is their children catching on and giving them a wide berth like they’re ticking bombs. Rose refuses eye contact, despite Cas’ attempts to engage her in conversation. Max then asks for a second helping of scrambled eggs, as though him not eating the day before had been the root cause of all this; it makes Dean feel like shit.

There’s no time for them to talk things through in the morning, and the rest of Dean’s day is fairly miserable to say the least. It’s a week until break and his students are growing restless, especially since they can’t go outside to work off their energy.

By three o’clock, Dean is just so damn tired, and Gabriel comes to pick up the twins so Dean can attend a staff meeting then run some errands that have been piling up on a million Post-It notes on their fridge. The sun goes down between the bank and grocery store, and it’s sort of depressing that the clock reads four fifty-three when it happens. The house is dark too, when Dean finally gets home around six, and he can’t quite tell if Cas is already there or not.

Then he sees the light on in their bedroom.

“Hi,” Dean says when he’s in the doorway, and Cas looks up, eyes soft and smiling hesitantly. His hair is a mess and he’s handsome despite the worn t-shirt and sweats, and Dean immediately feels stupid again for the fight, and he just-

He takes off his shoes and his jacket, then walks over to the bed to take Cas’ MacBook off his lap, pushing it to the side. He curls up next to Cas, leaning against his shoulder, and relaxes when Cas’ arm wraps around him after a moment, pulling him close in such an achingly familiar way.

He doesn’t even realize he has fallen asleep, until he jerks awake what feels like a few minutes later. He’s half on top of Cas, which can’t be very comfortable for him, but Cas hasn’t moved him, typing one-handed on his computer instead.

“How long was I asleep?” Dean asks drowsily, and Cas apparently didn’t realize he’d woken up, because he starts a little. 

“About three hours.”

“Did, um, did Gabe call?”

“Yes, he said he can take Rose and Max to school tomorrow morning.”

“That’s good.” Dean shifts a bit so Cas can at least move, and says, “You could’ve woken me up. Looks like you were working on something…”

Cas shrugs. “You looked like you needed to sleep.”

Dean looks up at him and feels a pang in his chest. “Cas, I… I’m really sorry. About yesterday.”

Cas reaches down to thread his fingers through Dean’s hair. “I’m sorry too.” 

“I hate fighting with you, Cas. I shouldn’t have been an asshole just because I was tired. You’re obviously exhausted too and-”

Cas closes the laptop and moves it to the bedside table, and pulls Dean into his arms to kiss him, safe and adoring. “I’m happy that you’re here,” he says, softly into Dean’s ear, and Dean smiles before closing his eyes again, feeling so much pure relief when he does, there in Cas’ arms.

 

**Fifth December: Cas**

Sam’s and Jess’ daughter is born at two pm on Christmas Eve, entering their lives like an early gift weighing six pounds, nine ounces, with blue eyes just like her mom’s. No one made travel plans this year so they could all be there to welcome her when she arrived, and the house wakes up just a few minutes after nine to the sound of Dean’s footsteps, pacing across the kitchen.

Cas knows that nothing could keep Dean calm today, and settles for rubbing soothing circles into his husband’s back. They both jump when the phone rings and Dean lunges to answer it, and he meets Cas’ eyes and confirm that, yes, their niece is finally here.

Cas grabs the keys, while Dean dresses the twins, and it’s a thankfully short drive to the hospital because Dean’s knee is bouncing so hard that Cas worries it might actually crash into base of the glove compartment. They stop in the gift shop for balloons, then at the florist for some lilies - Jess’ favorite - and they’re a cloud of pastel colors by the time they crowd into the elevator, headed to Maternity with matching goofy smiles.

“Guys!” Sam calls out as soon as they come through the door. He’s clearly exhausted but elated, all dimples and soppy smile, and he hugs his niece and nephew before wrapping his arms around Dean and Cas, pulling them in until they’re breathless in his huge, octopus limbs.

“Congratulations, Sam,” Cas says fondly, and Sam smiles and lets him go so he can walk over to Jess and tell her the same. Dean joins him a moment later, murmurs “Congrats, Jess” and kisses her cheek, and then Sam is back with the baby so they can hold her and Cas hasn’t felt like this since the twins were born.

She’s fast asleep, nestled in Dean’s embrace, short fringes of blonde hair sticking out from beneath a cap. Cas sidles up next to Dean, peers at the cocooned infant in his husband’s arms, and it’s like their hearts have grown a dozen sizes, staring at the newest member of their family in utmost wonder.

“Oh, we’re gonna spoil you, Chloe Winchester,” Dean says. “Uncle Cas and I’ll turn you into a holy terror. An angel-faced, lovable holy terror.”

“What’s that now?” Sam asks from the other side of the room. He’s in the middle of showing Rose and Max some of his baby photos, and laughs at Dean’s responding innocent shrug. “Cas, you gotta keep an eye on him before he molds my daughter in his image.”

“Don’t worry, I will,” Cas replies easily, and smiles when Dean throws him a look of utter betrayal.

“That’s how it is, huh?” Dean huffs, cradling Chloe to his chest like she’s the only one in the room whom he can trust.

“Yeah,” Cas leans in to press his lips to Dean’s mouth. “That is precisely how it is.”

They’re allowed a bit more time to fuss over Chloe, letting the twins hold her briefly and then Skyping John and Mary on one of their phones. The nurse comes to take Chloe seconds after they say goodbye, and he and Dean end up smushed in another hug when their niece leaves for the nursery.

“Jess and I have a child,” Sam mumbles in awe, “and you guys are  _uncles_.” He squishes them both once more and lowers his arms, glancing between him and Dean and suddenly looking nervous. “So, I wanted to ask… Um. Will you two- Would you want to be her godparents?”

Cas eyes widen just as Dean gasps “ _Jesus_ , Sam,” and Sam looks alarmed like he’s maybe asked the wrong question. That’s risible, of course, and Cas answers “We’d be honored” while Dean nods along. Sam beams and looks at Jess, who actually seems relieved as though there was even a chance that Dean and Cas would say no. Dean promises them that they’ll be the most badass godparents to ever exist, “just you wait.”

Cas smiles widely and squeezes Sam’s hand. “We sure will.”

 

**Sixth December: Dean**

The holiday party for Novak, Shurley, and Adler is always scheduled for the third Friday of December. There are suits and ties, Wolfgang Puck finger foods. There’s also a gift exchange that usually means new dessert plates from the Pottery Barn.

This year, though, the whole thing was turned on its head, starting a few weeks ago when Zachariah proposed ‘ugly sweaters’ as a theme out of the blue. He said they needed to “loosen up” - maybe poke some fun at themselves for once - and the associates balked but the partners had agreed, which left the interns to frantically scour the Internet for cheap sweaters.

So here they are now, mingling in the cleared conference room, Chuck wearing gingerbread men and Zachariah a gigantic candy cane. Dean accuses Anna of cheating, because  _her_  reindeers are of the stylish, J. Crew variety, but she rolls her eyes and sips her wine, says Chuck’s sweater was already one too many atrocity for her fragile eyes. Some of the associates didn’t even try, like that one guy who just stuck pins on his “festively” red Cornell sweater. The pins  _are_ hideous, Dean will give him that, but the wife didn’t try either and, hello, Dean is  _wearing Santa Claus_.

“Dean, have you seen Max?” Cas asks after an hour or two. His sweater is ridiculous - the lights around the collar actually glow - but he looks worried so Dean forgets all about it, and instead takes a step closer to ask, “Wasn’t he with Anna, babe?”

“He was, but she said he went back for more eggnog a while ago.”

“I’m sure he’s close by, and it’s not like he hasn’t been here before.” Dean runs a hand down Cas’ arm to hook their fingers together. “I’ll look for him, okay?” Cas nods faintly and reluctantly lets Dean go.

Dean walks past another Santa and a truly garish sequined stocking, eventually running into Rose who’s chatting with her uncle by the refreshments table. She’s damn adorable in her knitted penguin sweater, and he isn’t just saying that because she’s his daughter and she’s perfect. He kisses her head before heading out the door, peering into the offices as he saunters down the hallway. They’re all dark, as he’d expected, but there’s still Cas’ office to check at the very end, and Dean smiles when he gets nearer to find the lights on with Max hunched in front of the computer.

“Hey, buddy.”

Max raises his head at the voice, appearing dazed and flushed and sort of tired like he just woke up. He then glances at Dean’s sweater before breaking into a fit of giggles, and he’s practically breathless by the time he heaves out, “Papa, you have Santa on your… on your chest.”

“Yes, I do,” Dean laughs, eyeing Max’s cup suspiciously. “That your drink?”

“Yeah.” Max frowns at it like he’s seeing it for the first time - something that Cas always does, Dean notes with amazement.

“D’you get it from the green bowl or the red bowl?”

Max’s frown deepens and he vehemently shakes his head. “Dunno, but- But it tasted so bad, like, like  _dirt_. Did Mr. Adler put dirt in it?”

“He definitely put something in it,” Dean grins. “So, what were you doing in Dad’s office?”

His son’s face falls at the question and Dean feels his stomach lurch instinctively. In fact, he’s already guessing whose lungs he needs to rip out when Max finally sighs, “Papa. She added me back.”

“Who?” Dean walks up behind the chair and takes in the Facebook profile open on Cas’ iMac. “Oh, I see. This is the girl from geometry?” Max nods. “Isn’t this a good thing then?”

“But,” Max peers up at him with wide, impossibly blue eyes, “what do I even say?”

“You could always ask how her break is going.” Max lights up at the suggestion and his fingers fly to the keyboard, though Dean swoops in to save the preteen from himself as soon as he catches the words ‘jow iz you brk.’ “Never communicate with a crush under the influence.”

“ _Papa_ ,” Max whines, but then he yawns, slumping against the chair, and Dean has to stifle a laugh and mutter to no one in particular, “I don’t get it. Your dad has enough tolerance to drink a liquor store.”

“I heard that,” Cas chides from the doorway. “… Is our son going to have his first hangover tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Dean shakes his head, his arm twining around Cas’ waist when they’re close enough. “Let’s get him home.”

They carefully maneuver Max onto Dean’s back, then ask Chuck and Anna to bring Rose home since she’s currently killing it at the charades tourney going on in the corner. She waves at them as they leave and doesn’t even try to hide borrowing Anna’s phone to take a picture of her brother. Cas claims that she gets it from Dean and Sam; Dean argues that it’s Gabe’s influence, a hundred percent.

“Hey,” Dean says later as they’re pulling out of the parking garage, “think you’d have gone out with me if we knew each other in high school?”

The corner of Cas’ mouth turns up in a small smile. “Maybe,” he says. “You were hot then too, right?”

“Wow,” Dean rolls his eyes. “See if I give you my jacket during the fire drill.”

Cas just hums and hands over the parking stub. “You like it when I wear your clothes.”

And god help him, Dean does.

 

**Seventh December: Cas**

“Dean, I think that’s enough.”

“No, I need another one from your left.”

“ _Dean_.” Cas tries to look menacing but it clearly fails, judging from Dean’s laugh. The camera clicks again and Cas was definitely scowling in that one but Dean saves it anyway.

“I’m sorry,” Dean says, not sounding sorry at all. “I’m sorry, babe, but- You’re just so cute right now, okay? I can’t help myself.”

Max groans balefully.

“I want to return this,” Cas sighs.

“You can’t, it’s already embroidered.” Dean grins and pulls the hat from Cas’ head, turning it around to the loopy gold script on the back. “ _Castiel_. And it’s not like your name is Bob or something so they can resell it. Your unique, sweetheart. Unique like a snowflake.”

Cas glares the whole ten seconds it takes for Dean to place the hat back over his hair and adjust the ears until they’re straight.

“Oh my god!” Rose exclaims, re-appearing from behind a Goofy statue with her arms full of t-shirts and a pink mug shaped like Minnie Mouse’s torso. “Daddy, you look adorable,” she says brightly, and smiles when Dean pushes an identical hat onto her head.

“What’d I tell you, Cas?” Dean’s grin is as smug as his wink. “Cute as a button.”

As usual, Cas gives in.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

It’s through sheer dumb luck that they find a spot big enough for four to watch the parade. Magic Kingdom is still crowded with people taking advantage of the park’s extended hours, and by eight the castle is surrounded with families waiting for the nine o’clock firework display. With half-an-hour to spare, Rose mentions a churro vendor she saw on their way here, which leads to her and Dean slowly weaving their way back through the crowd, promising to return in one piece and without losing each other.

“Hey, Dad?”

“Hmm?”

When Max doesn’t answer, Cas turns his head to find the boy smiling back, content and happy. He’s still wearing the Mickey hat - well, they all are, at Dean’s insistence - but there’s something that Cas really likes about the ears on his son so he reaches out and flicks one, and Max’s grin broadens, much to his pleasant surprise.

“Dad,” he says again, and Cas nods back to let him know he’s listening. “I just-” he laughs softly. “I’m just really glad that you married Papa.”

Cas watches him for a moment, dazed.

“I mean,” Max shrugs, “I know I’ve never said this to you, all direct and stuff. I figured… It was obvious that I loved Papa when he was still Mr. Winchester and- Just. I can’t remember what my life was like without him, you know? Well, I remember the concrete things, like how we didn’t know him when I was in preschool. Or kindergarten. But it’s like you two have always been my parents and… It feels right. It honestly does. So, yeah, it’s good that he was smart enough to ask you out.”

Cas laughs and wraps an arm around his son, and a Mickey ear bumps into his chest with how closely they’re standing. “I almost lost my chance though. I turned him down the first time he asked.”

“Hard to get,” Max looks at him approvingly. “Nice one, Dad. No wonder Aunt Charlie had to peel those soccer moms off of you.”

“She told you that?”

“Oh yeah. That and how it was like, hot dad alert whenever you came to our school. Not like that isn’t happening now too, though. Rose’s friends are  _so_ obvious, ugh.” Cas chokes on the breath he just took but Max remains calm and sighs philosophically. “It’s the eyes,” he concludes, making his point by batting his own up at Cas. “No one can resist.”

“Better put those away, young man,” Dean warns, miraculously making it back to their spot. He waits for Rose to allocate the churros and adds, “Your dad’s eyes are lethal.”

“With great power comes great responsibility,” Max deadpans, and happily takes a bite off his churro.

Dean goes to lean against the fence, right beside Cas. “You totally abuse your power, you know.”

Cas blinks as innocently as he can manage. “What do you mean?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Unbelievable.” He can’t quite hide the smile playing at the corner of his mouth, and when Cas leans over to kiss him, his lips taste like sugar and cinnamon and home.

 

**Eighth December: Dean _  
_**

“Earth to the Grinch,” Sam says, sliding a steaming mug in front of his brother. He sits down afterward, gives Dean an appraising look, then laughs at Dean’s glare like it’s all hilarious and totally not legitimate.

Dean groans. “Shut up.”

“No, it’s adorable, don’t get me wrong. But he  _is_ flying in tomorrow, right? Maybe you’re being a tad melodramatic.”

“It’s  _Christmas_ ,” Dean replies petulantly. Sam rolls his eyes and reminds him it’s the twenty-third.

‘Melodramatic’ be damned; Dean thinks he’s being perfectly reasonable.

Cas was supposed to be back from his conference two whole days ago, and they would’ve flown down to Lawrence together had it not been for the terrible weather in Chicago and the ridiculous number of planes grounded at O’Hare. The conference lasted four days, during which Cas barely had time to call home, and then there was the poor cell phone reception at the airport cutting them off, so excuse the hell out of him for wanting to be with his husband during the holidays.

He hasn’t touched his coffee when his phone chimes loudly in his pocket, and he straightens up at Cas’ name on the screen, earning him a smirk from Sam across the table. ‘I made it to a hotel,’ the text reads. ‘Can I call you tonight?’ Dean resists the urge to tell him that he couldn’t have asked a more pointless question. Instead he types back, ‘Of course. I can talk now too, if you’re free?’ His phone starts ringing all but thirty seconds later and Sam waves him from the kitchen with a warning to keep it down. Pervert.

Dean answers with a “Hey” as soon as he’s on his way up the stairs.

“Hi, Dean,” Cas breathes and, god, Dean has missed that voice.

“You must be exhausted,” he says. “Did they figure everything out? Your flight is- No more delays, right?”

“No further delays expected,” Cas echoes, and there’s a smile in his words like he longs for Dean too, something fierce. “How is everybody?”

“Good, we’re all good.” Dean shuts his bedroom door and crosses the hardwood to sink down on the mattress. “My parents took Rose and Max into town and… I think I’m gonna go to lunch with Sam and Jess. I’ll, uh, pick up some of those éclairs you like from the bakery, if you want.”

“I’d like that,” Cas says, and there’s the sound of rustling in the background like he’s adjusting himself against a bed. “Do you… have some time now?”

Dean swallows. “I have- I have all the time.” He hears Cas laugh softly, followed by a sigh. Cas is probably stretching like a cat over those crisp hotel sheets.

“I miss you, Dean. I missed your voice,” Cas hums. “Will you tell me what you’re wearing?”

Dean glances at his flannel shirt and jeans. “Well,” he chuckles, reaching down to open his pants, “I  _was_ wearing plaid and jeans, but.” He cups himself through his boxers, lightly, and a slur winds its way through his next question, “What about you?”

There’s a short pause, and then, “I’m not wearing anything, Dean.”

_Shit_. “Cas, I… Are you touching yourself, babe?”

“Mm,” Cas murmurs, soft and breathy. “I’m imagining it’s you. Imagining your- That it’s your fingers on my skin. Dean…  _Dean_ , what would you do if I were there?”

“I’d kiss you all over,” Dean grits out. “Run my tongue across your skin and- Mark you up so everyone knows you’re mine. Yeah, you like that, don’t you? Would look so pretty for me, angel. Just- Just for me.”

“ _Yes_ , Dean, please,” Cas whimpers loudly. “I’m yours. Always yours. Only want you touching me.”

Dean splutters, breathless, giving up on the tease and slipping his hand underneath the waistband. His erection twitches in his palm and he starts pumping, sure and steady, then the touch gets harder, more needing, as he grunts, “Anything you want, Cas. Tell me… Talk to me.”

“I want to-” Cas’ breath chokes out of him on a rough, broken exhale, and he’s almost incoherent through the debauched noises coming from the back of his throat. “I want you to push me down, Dean, I’d- I’d get on my knees. I want to put my mouth on you and, ngh, have you make me  _take it_.”

Dean gasps as a shiver runs along his spine, pinpricks of pleasure spreading through his nerves. He can picture Cas now, sitting between his legs, the image is so vivid that his cock jerks in response, almost painful. He doesn’t weaken the grip on himself, just swipes his thumb over the slit through the precome, and pretends the wetness is Cas’ warm, perfect mouth, the pretty lips red and stretched around his swollen cock.

“Love it when you pull my hair,” Cas confesses shakily. “When you take control and, and fuck my mouth.”

“God, yes,” Dean growls, the thought of Cas’ parted lips, obedient and slick, driving him wild with lust. He picks up his rhythm, strokes himself harder, wishing it were the heat of Cas’ mouth instead of his own fingers. It’s crazy how stupidly gone he is for Cas, and he tries his best to verbalize this, to tell Cas just how gorgeous he is. “Thinkin’ about how you’d look right now. That flush on your chest, all skin I wanna bite on and- Fuck, you don’t even know what you to do me, Cas.”

“ _Dean_ , I’m- I miss you so much.”

Dean feels a surge of warmth in his chest, because he’s missed Cas too, the way he shivers when Dean whispers filth into the shell of his ear. Cas begs beautifully for him, pushes and tests Dean’s limits with such ease, and as always Dean is close, so fucking close from imagining Cas and hearing that voice.

“Miss you too,” he replies, every breath harsh and ragged now. “Hate being away from you. Can’t wait till you’re back, sweetheart.”

“Mm, me too,” Cas whines sweetly, blue eyes probably hooded and dark. His voice is wrecked and escalating, and Dean can tell that he’s almost there, ready and desperate.

“Cas, I’m close,” Dean gasps, laugh-groaning when Cas grunts his agreement. “We’ll- When you get here, we’ll do it properly, I- I’ll lick you open nice and slow and give you my fingers till you’re,  _fuck_ , till you’re sobbing for me to touch you, babe.”

“Dean!” Cas all but yells, his breath catching prettily as he comes, long and hard. Dean can picture his face twisted in pleasure, that lush mouth falling open to those hitched little moans, and the thoughts and sounds are enough to make Dean follow immediately, hot and fucking debilitating in his hand. Everything pulls tight, white sparks behind his eyes, and he smothers his moans so only Cas would hear him chant his name.

Cas’ breaths linger between them as he comes down from the high, and Dean realizes that his cogency isn’t all there when he pants, “How many hours?”

Cas laughs and Dean can hear him shifting on the bed, reaching for his phone. “Thirty,” comes the answer and Dean collapses onto the mattress in dramatic fashion. “Any chance you can avoid Chicago in wintertime from now on?”

“I’ll try my best. I love you, Dean.”

Dean smiles, so widely that his cheeks hurt. “Love you too.”

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

Kansas City International is bustling on Christmas Eve, much more than usual due to all the delayed flights. Dean checks the Arrivals screen for the umpteenth time, relieved that Cas’ flight still shows up as ‘on time’ and not ‘just kidding.’

Dean isn’t a fan of airports, or airplanes or flying in general for that matter. It’s chaotic and busy, full of people who are stressed out and in a hurry. But he’s there an hour early today, subjecting himself to a milieu that he hates, because when Cas is involved, Dean really couldn’t care less, and yeah, it’s painfully sappy but then again, he is a man in love.

He spots Cas’ bowed, brunet head about twenty minutes after the plane lands, sees Cas thumbing at his iPhone and then feels his own cell buzz twice in his jacket seconds later. He takes a step closer as Cas slips the phone back into his pocket, then waits for his husband to find him, heart racing.

Cas beams when he looks up.

“Dean,” he says breathily, crossing the few feet off the escalator right into Dean’s open arms. “You’re here.”

Dean presses a kiss into his hair. “Did you expect otherwise?”

“No, I just,” Cas leans in, his weight warm and solid. “It’s nice. So nice to see you.”

Dean could spend the rest of his life picking Cas up from airports.

 

**Ninth December: Rose**

“Wait, where are you going?”

Rose huffs into the scarf she’s been looping around her neck. “I told you, Dad. Ethan’s taking me to a movie.”

“Who’s Ethan?” Dad frowns. Max laughs into his hand.

“My boyfriend,” Rose sighs. “You interrogated him before the Homecoming dance, remember?”

The corner of Dad’s mouth twitches at the memory, and Rose sighs again because he knows  _exactly_  who Ethan is. “Thought we agreed that you wouldn’t date until you’re forty.”

“No, Dad, that’s what  _you_ said. And even Daddy called the rule ridiculous.”

“See how you undermine my authority, Cas?” Dad grumbles, and there’s a fond laugh from behind the island where Daddy’s laying out the ingredients for their gingerbread houses.

“Forty is a bit much, Dean,” he says. “I think thirty-five would do just fine.”

“This is why I love you,” Dad hums, and he’s got that dreamy look in his eyes again.

“May I point out that you two were thirty-one when you started dating.” Rose pulls on a hat over her dark hair and crosses the kitchen to give Daddy a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll be back by five.”

“Stay warm,” he says, leaning down a little for her. “I wish you didn’t have to miss our gingerbread day.”

“I’m sorry,” she pouts. “But Ethan’s family is going out of town tomorrow so today’s our last-”

“I know, sweetheart,” he laughs and kisses her forehead, smelling of cinnamon and nutmeg and warmth. “Just go have fun, okay? And don’t worry about your dad.”

“Heard that.”

Rose is sure to give him a kiss too.

“Mutiny on my hands,” he complains, but she figures he doesn’t really mean it based on his smile and how he zips up her coat all the way to the collar.

The thing is, though, that their kitchen feels so cozy and snug. The counter is scattered with Dots - Max’s favorite - and there are ninja gingerbread men cookie cutters waiting for her. Everyone loves the cookies she decorates with those, especially Uncle Gabe, and she’s been looking forward to today quite a bit. So when Ethan calls to let her know he’s five minutes away, Rose asks if he’s any good with icing and food fights.

“Did you forget something?” Max wonders when she walks back into the kitchen. He’s already wearing mitts and pulling a fresh batch of gingerbread sheets from the oven.

“Nah, just a change of plans,” she grins, and steps aside to let Ethan in through the doorway.

“Hey, Max,” he greets amiably with a wave, and Max replies “Hey, man” then shoots Dad an amused look. Luckily for Ethan, Daddy swoops in before Dad can do more than raise a curious eyebrow.

“Will you be joining us, Ethan?”

“Yes, Mr. Novak,” Ethan nods seriously. Rose notices Max’s smirk and shoves a hand in his face; like  _his_ girlfriend wasn’t on her best behavior the last time she came over. Jerk.

“Good. The more the merrier. Dean, could you get Ethan an apron?”

Dad slows down his mixing but doesn’t move otherwise, not until Daddy clears his throat and pushes him toward the wall hooks by the pantry. He then picks the one covered in poinsettias and holds it out, daring Ethan to object to his choice.

“My parents have the same one,” Ethan says good-naturedly, taking the apron and tying it around his waist. Rose decides that the tiny nod this earns from Dad is a fair triumph, all things considered.

She and Ethan are put in charge of building the gingerbread house for Aunt Anna and Uncle Chuck, while Max works on the one for Uncle Gabe and Dad the one for Grandpa and Grandma Novak. Daddy goes around with the tube of icing so they can glue some walls together, and Max, as expected, reaches for the bowl of Dots first. Ethan suggests that they tile their roof with red and green Swedish fish, and for a while the kitchen fills with small talk and Michael Bublé singing Christmas carols, as well as the occasional whir of the mixer and more bags of candy being ripped open - mostly by Max.

“So, which movie were you going to see?” Dad asks from across the table.

Rose nudges Ethan’s arm.

“Oh! Um, there’s a theatre in Porter Square that plays old movies. I was-  _It’s A Wonderful Life_ was playing today.”

Dad raises an eyebrow again but it’s more impressed than suspicious. “You like classic movies?”

“Definitely. I mean, I love other stuff too. Independent films, Marvel,” he smiles at Rose, “but yeah, my dad showed me a bunch of his favorites when I was little and I guess I inherited a preference for them.”

“Hmm,” Dad says, returning to his project, and Rose catches Daddy biting back a smile.

“Do you like cars too?” Max asks. “What? It’s an important question,” he argues when Rose rolls her eyes.

Ethan grins anyway. “Yeah, they’re sort of why I can tolerate physics. It’d be hard to stay awake in class otherwise.”

“Thought you liked physics ‘cause you’re a nerd,” Rose teases.

“Says the girl who actually appreciates Mr. Tate’s jokes,” he laughs. “Seriously, ‘Have you heard that entropy isn’t what it used to be?’ C’mon, everyone cringed except for you.”

“It’s cute!” she protests. “He’s like a cartoon character, you know? With those bowties and glasses and silly jokes.”

“Well, I know how  _I’m_  going to dress once school starts up again.”

“Oh my god, can I please buy you bowties?”

“Jesus, you two are gross,” Max groans. Of course, when he looks away he ends up staring at Daddy feeding Dad a Skittle, and he drops his head morosely into his hands, getting the sugar dust from his fingers into his hair. “Can I call Zoe?” he croaks. “I feel so outnumbered by your couples’ antics.”

“You’re almost done with your house,” Daddy says serenely. “But she can come by for dinner if she’d like.”

Max perks up. “Really?” He turns to Dad too. “S’that okay with you, Papa?”

“Sure,” Dad shrugs, twirling a spatula in his hand. “… Staying for dinner, Ethan?”

Ethan honest-to-god jumps in his seat. “Yes? I mean, yes! Wow, um, thank you, Mr. Winchester. Sir.”

Max barks a loud, obnoxious laugh so Rose throws a Starburst at him, and Ethan’s still flushing so she reaches for his hand beneath the table. She also doesn’t miss Daddy kiss Dad’s cheek like he’s really proud, and she realizes that there was no reason for her to worry so much.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

Rose finds her parents in the family room later that night, both of them on the couch, flipping through a photo album. They’re in their pajamas and Dad’s head is on Daddy’s shoulder, and she’s pretty sure those are pictures from her and Max’s middle school graduation.

“What are you guys up to?” she asks.

Dad turns his head without lifting it from its resting place. “Nothing much. Was just saying that you and your brother are never getting married.”

Daddy nods solemnly. “We’re calling Grandpa John in the morning to ask about gun licenses.”

“Yup, I bet.”

“You hear that, Cas?” Dad gasps. “She doesn’t believe us. Our tactics are failing already.”

“Maybe you should’ve been tougher on Ethan then.”

“Oh, I’ve still got my eye on that kid,” Dad says. “One bad move and he’s toast.” He makes a slicing motion with his hand and Rose sighs before replying, “Yeah, alright, I’ll let him know.”

“You do that,” he grins, then untangles himself from his spot on the couch. “Okay, it’s time for bed… because Christ, your dad looks  _really_  good in his glasses.”

“Oh god, Dad!” Rose whines. “ _Every_ time!”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s all very dramatic.” Dad ruffles her hair as he walks by hand in hand with Daddy, who tells her “Good night, sweetie” and tucks the loosened strands behind her ears.

“One of these days, you’re gonna regret traumatizing me!” she warns.

Dad just laughs and wraps an arm around Daddy’s waist. Incorrigible.

 

**Tenth December: Cas + Dean**

“Where are we going tonight?” Cas asks, smiling when Dean steps ahead to open the passenger side door. He slides into his seat obligingly, while Dean bends down to give him a kiss.

“It’s a surprise.”

Cas raises an eyebrow, indulgent and amused, and watches Dean close the door before walking around the car to his side. He decides against asking more questions and talks about his day instead, telling Dean about the firm’s new interns who are already inhaling coffee like it’s their life source. He doesn’t pay much attention to the road signs, too relaxed from the feel of Dean’s hand cradling his over the console. It’s about twenty more minutes before the car starts to slow down, and Cas blinks out the window when Dean kills the ignition and tells him, “We’re here.”

The building looks historical - imposing, really, with its stone façade. But Cas has no chance to marvel at the architecture because Dean is taking his hand, leading him toward the entrance.

“This is all very mysterious,” he says, shooting Dean a wry little smile. What he gets in return is a wink and an accompanying smile, all of which only serve to pique his curiosity.

As soon they head inside, however, it is as though he’s been transported. The whole place is bustling with music and laughter, and the interior is old-fashioned, swanky and plush and warm. 

“The restaurant’s upstairs,” Dean explains, “but the first floor’s a speakeasy. Charlie told me about it and I thought- Well, it’s been a while since we’ve gone out for drinks, right?”

Dean gives his name to the hostess, who asks if they’d like to wait in the bar until their table is ready. He nods at her and leads Cas to the mahogany counter with leather stools, and it’s true, they haven’t gone on this kind of date in some time. Dean orders whiskey and he orders scotch, but it’s the intimacy of Dean pressed against his side that heats up his skin rather than the ambience or the liquor itself. Dean shares a few stories from his day, about Benny and Charlie and Garth, his new T.A., and it’s nothing unusual yet the mood feels sexier, and Cas can’t stop staring at how the lights play in Dean’s green eyes.

“S’there something on my face?” Dean asks eventually, and Cas shakes his head, just takes a sip of his drink and gazes at Dean over the rim.

“No,” he smiles. “You’re just very handsome.”

“ _Cas_ ,” Dean protests, blushing a pleasing pink, but his palm finds the top of Cas’ knee and the weight feels nice, secure like it’s supposed to be there.

“What?” Cas replies playfully. “It’s our anniversary. I’m pretty sure compliments are allowed, if not encouraged.”

Dean rolls his eyes and slides his hand further up until it brushes Cas’ fingertips.

“You’re the one being inappropriate,” Cas hums, and it’s Dean’s turn to wink at him, all charm and easy confidence. It amazes Cas sometimes, how they can still banter and flirt like this, like it hasn’t been nine years - ten if he counts the year they spent dating. And Dean’s the only one who’s ever made him feel this way.

“Hey, I’m gonna call Sam to make sure everything’s okay with Rose and Max,” Dean says a few minutes later. The signal is terrible so he decides to step outside, and Cas sets his jacket on Dean’s stool while he waits.

“Someone sitting here?”

Cas glances up at the voice and finds a dark-haired guy leaning against the counter, smiling at him. He’s standing too close for his comfort and Cas recoils a bit. “Yes,” he answers tersely, hoping it would serve as a deterrent.

“You sure? I don’t see anyone.”

“My husband just went out to make a phone call,” Cas says, annoyed now. He lifts his glass with his left hand, the ring clearly visible on the fourth finger.

“Well, maybe we can chat till he comes back.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Aw, come on,” the guy smiles, bordering on smarmy, and he looms in close enough for Cas to catch a hint of his strong cologne. “You’re too hot to be married.”

“Seriously, I-”

“ _Back off_.”

Dean reappears, almost out of nowhere it seems, and the man turns in surprise at his sudden, demanding grip. Dean’s tone is so territorial that he instinctively falters a bit, moving away from Cas, albeit minutely.

“What, is he yours or something?”

Cas sucks in a breath as Dean draws up higher, posture tightening. He lets the man go but fixes him with impatient, threatening eyes, a stark contrast from the tenderness with which he caressed Cas merely minutes ago.

“Yeah.  _You bet_  he is.”

The intruder swallows hard, then raises his hands in a placating gesture. “Sorry, man. No harm meant.”

“You better go before that’s no longer true for you.”

Something flashes in the guy’s grey eyes - most likely wounded pride - but Dean’s expression is cold without room for argument so he retreats, appropriately rebuffed and fearful.

Dean follows his trail, not satisfied until he’s out of sight, and Cas reaches over to coax Dean’s hand in his own. He gives it a light, calming squeeze and carefully studies Dean’s features, and he smiles a little when they finally soften at his touch.

“The hostess said our table’s ready,” Dean says quietly, his mouth still set in a hard line. Cas stands on his feet and leans up to kiss it better, gentle and appeasing.

“I remember now,” Dean grumbles into the kiss. “This is why I can’t take you to bars.” Cas nips at his bottom lip. “Or anywhere, you know, with people. People who have eyes.”

Cas laughs and kisses him more deeply for that, just because.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

Once they return home after dinner, Dean barely has time to shuck off his shoes before Cas is pushing him against the door. He smiles into the kiss and fits his hands on Cas’ slim waist, his smile widening at the pleased sound he receives in response. “Mm, are we in a hurry?” he mumbles when Cas releases his mouth and pecks kisses along his jaw. Cas answers with another nip to his bottom lip, tugging on it slightly and soothing the bite with his tongue.

He can feel the outline of Cas’ erection beneath those slacks, and his dick is quick to respond to it, swelling and tenting his pants uncomfortably. His arm drifts down to pull Cas to him as closely as possible, and he’s more than happy to be locked between the door and Cas’ warm, sinful body. Then again, he’s a bit too old to be coming in his pants in their foyer, which is exactly what’s going to happen if Cas doesn’t stop rocking his hips and groaning into Dean’s mouth all hot and breathy and wanting.

“Cas,” Dean says, tearing his mouth away to Cas’ wounded, pretty sounds of protest. “Babe, we should take this to the bedroom.” He lets Cas kiss him once more before pulling back again. “Or,  _fuck_ , or at least the office or the living-”

“No, Dean,” Cas narrows his eyes, dark and sexy as hell. “I want you now.”

Well, shit, if that doesn’t go straight to Dean’s cock.

Cas looks wicked and determined, leaving Dean without much choice except to nod. He’s dazed and already half-gone, hardly registers Cas’ answering nod in his stupor. Cas then starts hastily unbuckling Dean’s belt, fumbling open his fly and yanking down his pants and briefs. “Mm, Dean, want you so much,” he breathes, rough and gorgeous like crushed glass, and uses a hand to smear Dean’s precome up and down his shaft, eliciting a strangled moan out through Dean’s lips. 

“God,  _Cas_ ,” Dean gasps, nearly panting when Cas lets go to remove his own clothes. Dean’s heart pounds at the sight of his flushed pink cock, sticky against his navy blue button-down, and without really thinking Dean grabs the hem of Cas’ shirt, pulling it up and over his head. Cas allows Dean to touch his chest and thumb at his nipples only for a few moments, before batting his hands aside and surging forward to hoist himself up with his arms around Dean’s neck.

“What-”

Cas wraps his legs around Dean’s hips, tight and inviting.

“Cas, what-” Dean says again, and Cas just stares at him with his lips parted and cheeks dusted with heat.

“Fuck me,” he whispers, and a wave of powerful lust flares up inside Dean, seeing him like this.

“But babe, we need the-”

“No, we don’t,” Cas cuts him off, and pushes Dean’s hand between his legs before Dean can ask.

“Jesus,” Dean groans when he feels the slickness there, stretched and ready for him all this time. “When did you- Fuck, Cas, you’re gonna kill me.” He kisses Cas’ smirk, sliding his hands further beneath Cas’ thighs for a better grip, then pushes off the door and spins them so Cas is up against it, kissing him firmly before reaching down with one hand to guide himself into Cas.

He presses in slowly and Cas sighs when he’s in all the way, head tipped back and eager and desperate, and it’s thrilling to know that he’s like that because of  _him_. He starts to move when Cas makes an insistent, frantic sound, and soon his hips are working a punishing pace, his senses addicted to how Cas’ body opens up around his.

“Fuck,  _yes_ , Dean,” Cas moans at Dean’s steady rhythm, one that fucks Cas hard against the door while he whimpers against Dean's mouth. He refuses to stop kissing Dean until they’re gasping for air, leaning in for more, and they don’t quite catch their breaths until Cas is clenching hard and spurting all over Dean’s dress shirt.

“Love you like this,” Dean grunts breathlessly, hips beginning to stutter as he continues to push deep inside Cas.

“ _Dean_ ,” Cas murmurs, stroking his hands across Dean’s back. “Mm, you feel so good. Come on, Dean, ngh, want you to come.”

“Shit. Cas, I’m-” Dean stills with a groan, trapping Cas against the door when he comes. They collapse into each other, breathing hard into each other’s necks, and Cas kisses him there until Dean feels his smile, lazy and sated.

“Happy anniversary, Dean.”

Dean laughs and bites gently at Cas’ collarbone. “So, should I be jealous more often?”

Cas’ hair is soft against his cheek as he nods. “Jealousy’s a good look on you, and I sort of love it.”

“Clearly,” Dean smiles, lifting his head to kiss Cas, slow and leisurely. “I love you,” he sighs afterward, his heart happy and full.

 

**Sixteenth December: Max + Dean**

‘Has your plane landed?’ Max types into his phone, absently rolling his carry-on back and forth. He just got off a six-hour flight and unwittingly smells like stale, recycled air, but he can’t find it in himself to care given the imminent reunion with his sister.

He hasn’t seen Rose since August, which is the longest they’ve ever been apart. Skype sessions aren’t quite the same as the weekly dinners they had in undergrad, and Max is man enough to admit that he misses her pretty fiercely.

His phone chimes in his hand, bringing up a text that reads, ‘Landed! Come to 35!’ Max smiles and glances at the numbered signs above to check for the right direction, and swiftly gathers his belongings to head to Rose’s gate.

It was worth the effort to time their flights perfectly, because he sees her messy ponytail as soon as he passes thirty-five. She jumps a little when she spots him and rushes over all excitedly, jumping into his arms so fast that he has to catch her waist not to fall.

“Max!” she exclaims, pulling away with a grin that undoubtedly matches his own. Her arm reaches out to ruffle his hair and he lets her (just this once), taking her duffel with a roll of his eyes so they can make their way to baggage claim.

“How was the flight?”

“Not bad,” she replies, sending a text off to their dads to let them know she’s found him. “But mine wasn’t six hours, so. What about you?”

Rose flew in from Bethesda, where she’s started a post-grad fellowship at the NIH. It’s scary, science-y work that involves viruses and other stuff Max doesn’t get, but Rose seems happy to be the next Louis Pasteur or whatever, so he’s happy for her too. As for him, he’s moved to Palo Alto to follow in Uncle Sam’s footsteps, having just settled into Stanford Law and missing NorCal weather already.

“Mine was fine too. God, it’s cold here though.”

“Such a baby,” Rose says, tugging hard on the draw strings of his sweatshirt and nearly causing him to tumble forward. He shoots her a dirty glare, which she just laughs off as per usual, and Max sighs and picks up his pace, making Rose yell and practically jog to keep up.

Baggage claim is packed when they arrive, filled with travel-rumpled passengers, and Rose drags him by his sleeve toward her carousel first since that’s where their family agreed to meet. It’s a bit of a hassle to weave around this many people while carrying luggage in each hand, but the annoyance is quick to fade at the sight of his dads, sitting side by side and holding hands because, yeah, they’re still so totally gross.

“Dad! Daddy!” Rose calls out, her voice clear and bright among the din of the crowd. They turn at the sound and immediately rise up to embrace her, and Max moves faster to join in on the cheesy, joyful group hug. He’s pulled in when he’s close enough, laughing at their little huddle, but it’s so nice to be together in one place again and, Jesus, he’s missed them all.

“Looks like we’ll have to feed you,” Dad declares seriously, blue eyes fond as he places their bags on a cart. Max has absolutely no reason to argue against that since dining halls and ramen can only be tolerable for so long. “There’s pie at home.”

“Pie?” Max perks up. “What kind? Oh my god, please say cherry.”

“You are your father’s son,” Dad chuckles with a shake of his head. “We baked cherry and blueberry. And stockpiled the ice cream.”

“This is gonna be frightening,” Rose huffs as she eyes the conveyor belt for her bag. “Daddy, you sure you want to let Dad and Max eat pie until they’re sick?”

“Who says we’re gonna be sick?” Papa cuts in with a tone of mock defense. “Our stomachs were made to consume inordinate amounts of pie.”

“I’m not as worried about you, Dad, ‘cause I know your potential. But Max over there is only half a Winchester and I highly doubt he was born with two stomachs like you.”

“Ah, but I was trained by the best,” Max counters, slinging an arm loosely around Papa’s shoulders for added emphasis.

“The longer you argue here, the later we’ll get home,” Dad interrupts serenely. “And the later it is, the lower the chance that I’ll let you eat the pie. Which is it?”

Max closes his mouth instantly and shepherds his family toward the second carousel, making a show of searching for his suitcase from a ridiculous distance away. “Hey, I see my bag already! Looks like we’ll be outta here in a flash, Dad.”

Dad just bites his lip to stifle a laugh and waves Max off to fetch his luggage.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

The following days pass in a blur, a blur of food and hugs and holiday cheer that has Max smiling like a complete dork throughout. They spend a day with Uncle Chuck and Aunt Anna, then go over to their grandparents’ house the next, and on Christmas Eve they gather at Uncle Sam’s for Chloe’s eleventh birthday, arriving in a giant pile of presents.

He and Rose have always doted on Chloe, her being their only cousin and everything. But she’s also sweet and smart, just like her parents, so it would’ve been hard not to love her either way.

“She was restless since morning,” Aunt Jess laughs when Chloe runs out to greet them in the foyer. “Good thing we planned to start with lunch.”

Max mirrors the sound as Chloe hugs everyone in turn, and his grin widens at her holding onto Dad for a moment longer than the rest. He knows they’re really close – Dad reads to her a lot and never forgets to bring a new novel or two for her bookcase – and Max also knows that this is something Papa appreciates to no end, obvious based on the lopsided smile now crossing his reverent face.

Max leans down to kiss Chloe’s cheek, after which he lifts her into a wild, spinning hug. It’s a trick he learned from Uncle Sam and Uncle Gabe, who used to do the same for him and Rose when they were little, and it draws this amazing stream of giggles out of Chloe, infectious and delightful and really too cute for words.

It understandably takes them a while to migrate to the living room, a space gloriously decorated with an insane number of lights. Uncle Sam walks in about half an hour later holding a large sheet cake that he just picked up, allowing them to officially kick off the birthday lunch in earnest with Chloe shyly at the center of attention.

He and Rose give Chloe a bundle of gifts that they picked out together: a chemistry set (which Rose examined and deemed “legit”) and books from a reading wish list that they secretly procured from Aunt Jess a few weeks ago. They also have a stuffed unicorn for her because she should get a real toy too, but she gushes over all of it and hugs them both very, very tightly till she’s satisfied.

They eat and exchange early Christmas presents, laughing and drinking eggnog. Papa chats with Aunt Jess, Dad with Uncle Sam, and Rose and Chloe sit by the tree to pore over the chemistry set. The atmosphere’s so peaceful, their interactions easy and loving, and it dawns on Max just how incredible his family is – even if did take them two tries to get it right.

Tomorrow they will join Uncle Gabe for dinner, and probably be wowed with a meal that’s mostly dessert. Dad and Papa have already agreed to bring entrées as appropriate – not that Max would mind having Uncle Gabe’s pecan pie for the main course.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

They don’t get the chance to be alone, just the four of them, until the evening after Christmas day. The tree is still up, of course, and the holiday mood hasn’t faded by any means, but they do have a break to breathe before New Year’s, which they use to belatedly celebrate his dads’ anniversary.

The streets aren’t as busy as before on the twenty-sixth, probably due to the snow and most people sleeping off their happy fatigue and food comas. The restaurant is bustling nonetheless when they arrive at six-thirty, and the hostess smiles at Max, who’s standing at the front of the group.

“Good evening and welcome to Sorellina. Have you made a reservation?”

“Yes,” he nods. “It’s under Max Novak-Winchester.”

She checks the list to confirm the name and gestures at them to follow, leading their party to a table by the window that looks out onto the lit-up city streets.

“I loved the last few days,” Rose says later when the server leaves with their order, “but it’s great to have the four of us back.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Papa smiles, resting an arm on the back of Dad’s chair. “We honestly couldn’t wait to have you both under our roof again.”

“Mmhmm, you guys do enjoy your date nights though,” Rose smiles over her champagne. “And with us gone, it’s date night  _every_ night, right?”

Max thinks Dad blushes a little but Papa just winks and says, “Sweetheart, it’s been date night every night for the past seventeen years.” Which makes Dad blush even more and, um, is it weird to think that your parents are cute?

“I give up,” his sister laughs into her drink. “You two set the bar way too high.”

“Nate sounds like a good kid,” Dad offers, referring to Rose’s new boyfriend.

“He is,” she shrugs, mouth curving upward at the thought of him alone. “It’s just that we have a lot to live up to if we’re gonna be half as cosmically fated as you.”

“Well,” Papa lowers his arm to reach for Dad’s hand instead, “you’re not exactly wrong.”

“Speaking of cosmically fated,” Max says as he and Rose finish groaning woefully at their dads. He tosses his sister a meaningful look and waits for her to fish under her chair for the gift bag they put together earlier. It’s glittery and frilly and fully ostentatious, and his parents’ eyes widen identically when Rose sets it on the table.

“Happy fifteenth anniversary,” she sing-songs, placing her hands back in her lap and gazing at their dads expectantly. They look somewhat stunned, because Rose did admirably with sneaking the present in, and eventually Papa takes the bag and pushes it toward Dad, motioning for him to open it on their behalf.

He and Rose shift to the edge of their seats while Dad undoes the wrapping, his long fingers moving careful and deliberate to affect it as minimally as possible. He opens the card first, sliding it flat between himself and Papa so they can read it at the same time, and it’s uncanny how they even smile and laugh simultaneously – well, uncanny and exasperating, and maybe a tad adorable.

Max gets a bit excited when Dad takes out the boxes, which are also wrapped because Rose insisted, to heighten the element of surprise. He really hopes that they like this, since he and Rose discussed it for months, exchanging links over Skype and even checking their local department stores, making sure every last detail would be perfect.

“The silver one is yours, Daddy,” Rose explains, “and Dad, yours is the green.”

Dad nods and hands the green box to Papa, and it’s quiet for a moment as they each unwrap their gifts.

“Wow,” is Papa’s breathy reaction, and he pauses for Dad to open his before removing the watch from its case. The white gold glimmers beautifully beneath the lighting in the restaurant, and Dad’s eyes are huge too when he lifts the accessory into his palm.

“How did you...” he trails, peering at them in bewilderment. “These must have been...”

“Totally worth it now, seeing your faces,” Max laughs. “There’s more, by the way. Check out the backs.”

They flip the watches around slowly, Dad’s breath hitching noticeably when he reads the engraving. Papa looks suspiciously teary-eyed, which makes Rose sigh, and Max is grinning stupidly broad because it’s clear that they love the inscriptions.

It took him and Rose forever to decide, recalling important dates and phrases, considering seeking help from poems and romantic literature. But in the end, they wanted it to be personal, something extra special, and what they ultimately sent for was  _Dean, for you are mine_ on Dad’s, and  _Cas, for you are mine_ on Papa’s.

“This is...”

“From your wedding song,” Rose fills in for Papa, her eyes appearing a bit watery herself. “We just... We wanted to show you somehow that- Well, our lives changed for the better because you two met. And so this is us saying thanks for... for setting a great example of what love’s supposed to be. For loving  _us_ as much as you do.”

“... What she said,” Max adds with a cheeky smile, earning strange, crying-laugh hybrids out of everyone. “Seriously, though. Happy anniversary. You’re embarrassingly affectionate and Rose and I are truly long-suffering, but we love you guys. Like, really love you a lot.”

“We really love you too,” Dad replies, leaning into Papa’s side and smiling back contentedly. Papa nods his agreement, turning to lay a kiss in Dad’s hair, and Max hates being sappy but he’d be lying if he said that his eyes didn’t prickle at the scene.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

“Hey, Cas,” Dean murmurs as he wraps an arm around his husband, pulling him close while they wait for the valet.

“Yes, Dean?”

“Did you ever imagine, when we met at that party,” Dean smiles, “that we’d end up here? Celebrating fifteen years with two great, awesome kids?”

Cas laughs and tilts his head so it rests on Dean’s shoulder. “I don’t know about marriage but I knew you were different. Which is why I felt scared at first.” He shifts again to properly meet Dean’s gaze, eyes brilliantly blue and vibrant and making Dean’s heart race. “I’m so glad you stopped me from running away.”

“And I’m so glad you walked into that parent-teacher conference,” Dean says. “I would’ve been devastated if I never saw you again.”

Cas’ answering smile is soft, his hand lifting to Dean’s hair and carding through it like the most natural thing. “Me too,” he whispers, adoring and gorgeous, and Dean marvels at just how much in love he is, and how he falls in love more deeply with each passing day.

He bends down to capture Cas’ lips, sighing at the fingers delicately threading themselves in his hair. His hands move to hold Cas’ waist and he swallows the little hums that fall into the kiss, thinking that Dean Winchester is pretty damn lucky if his life is this perfect at only forty-seven.

“Can’t bring you anywhere,” comes a teasing rebuke when he and Cas eventually move apart. It took some self-control for them to not transition to a heated make-out session, but that didn’t prevent Cas’ mouth from looking all red and flushed to match his pretty cheeks.

“Sorry,” Dean chuckles, ghosting a thumb over Cas’ bottom lip before throwing a smile at his daughter. “It’s all my fault.”

“Obviously,” she shoots back, her accompanying laugh tender and indulgent. “I guess you get a free pass today ‘cause of the dinner and stuff but, geez, contain yourselves for the love of god.”

“Yeah,” Max chimes in as he appears behind his sister, sounding just like Cas with his voice all low and stern. “Like I said. Please do think of your long-suffering children.”

“Alright, fine,” Dean replies with very ill-feigned vexation. “We’ll be good and just hold hands like other old lame people.”

Cas laughs and takes Dean’s hand in his, placating and gentle, the four of them stepping closer to the curb as the valet drives their car around.

The twins climb into the back while Dean opens the passenger door for Cas, and he tugs Cas in by the wrist for a brief kiss before walking around to his side. Cas rolls his eyes and Rose and Max are in a dramatic uproar when Dean gets in the car, but they’re all laughing by the time he pulls away from the restaurant and Dean, well, he really couldn’t be happier.

**Author's Note:**

> Do leave me kudos, comments, and love! Your feedback means the world. :)
> 
> Feel free to follow me on [Tumblr](http://puppycastiel.tumblr.com/post/104002515200/dean-cas-au-coming-home-verse-by-puppycastiel)!


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